


derelict

by halfaday



Series: doyu drabbles [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love, exes meeting again, ment of 'healthy' intake of alcohol and brief urge to get intoxicated (not acted on)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday
Summary: One last drink, before life goes back to what it’s become.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta
Series: doyu drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906981
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	derelict

**Author's Note:**

> hi! you might have seen this posted before, compiled with other drabbles in one single work. said-single work has since then been deleted, and this is a repost — will be multiple reposts, as i upload each drabble separately. hoping you enjoy,

The setting sun silhouettes Dongyoung's figure — makes his frame sharper than it really is, reminds Yuta of another time. (Reminds him of a waist that was constantly hidden in large clothes, shoulders that kept on slouching — a back that would always lean against his chest when he was tired, a body that fit perfectly in his arms.)

(Now Dongyoung wears tailored suits, and carries himself like he has an universe to conquer — he looks at the world with his back to him, and stands alone.

Times have changed.)

'It's bittersweet, I think.'

Yuta blinks — focuses on Dongyoung's face as he turns around, attempts to bury his thoughts - _feelings -_ in a corner of his mind, where his heart cannot reach them. Dongyoung hands him a glass of an alcohol he could never name (an alcohol he's sure _he_ hates) — accidentally brushes fingers with him, and Yuta fails, spectacularly: his heart settles in his throat, and threatens to trip out of his mouth.

He swallows — takes a bigger sip than he should. The alcohol is strong, bitter - disgusting. Yuta winces.

'What is?' he says nevertheless — putting his glass back on the coffee table, the only thing separating him and Dongyoung (one amongst a thousand other ones).

'The end of the project.' Dongyoung takes a seat on the armchair by his right, crosses his legs. This, too, is unusual for him — but Yuta has spent the last three weeks getting used to it, training himself to ignore the movement — his eyes remain on Dongyoung

(and if they slip up, they don't give Dongyoung the chance to notice)

'I'll miss this place.'

'Really?'

Dongyoung smiles, a thin, soft smile that Yuta was once used to receiving, when they were out with friends and he teased him, when _he_ teased Dongyoung and the other couldn't do anything about it — when they were surrounded by people, and this was the only way Dongyoung could convey his feelings — when they were alone, and Dongyoung could let them pour out of him freely, fond _I love you_ on the tip of his tongue, a tender kiss on the very edge of his lips. It was, _is,_ always a warm sight — a heartbreaking sight, when the smile no longer belongs to Yuta, and Yuta considers his glass of alcohol, the bottle by its side. Believes drinking this poison would hurt far less than this entire thing - but Dongyoung speaks before he can act on the thought.

'Really. I do love Japan, you know. I don't get to go as often as I wish.'

 _I miss visiting,_ he adds, quietly — makes Yuta regret ever suggesting one last drink before they head their separate ways, makes him wish this weren't happening.

(Seven years ago, on the summer before Yuta's twenty-second birthday, they went to Osaka, and spent a week at his house. Dongyoung got to know his family through something other than Skype, and Yuta got to show him a part of his world. They made the promise to come back at least once a year, and they did. For three years, until whatever that was wrapped around them slipped away, and instead stood between them — until they called it quits, and broke things off.)

(Yuta remembers: their last summer in Japan, with the sun seeping through the closed curtains, Dongyoung's sleeping form by his side — his saddened eyes and his sighs, the love he once held in his hand slipping away from him, little by little. He remembers: standing before the sea, turning to look at Dongyoung, and being met with an inquisitive gaze, something he knew meant,)

'You can always come back when you have days off. Doesn't Germany have paid leave? Haven't you planned to hang around a little more after the project?'

'No,' Dongyoung replies — a hint of something in his voice, emotions he's willing to show Yuta, a piece of who he is now. Much less than himself — but Yuta takes it anyway, is grateful for it.

(Dongyoung explains his work is very demanding, and that his coworkers aren't quite as skilled as him — that working overtime is part of his routine, and that he's the first employee in a long while to be doing this great. He talks about work, and unknowingly replies to the question Yuta asked ages ago, when he was burning his candle rapidly during exams, and Yuta had to force him to go to bed — when he was on the edge of a breakdown, and he sought out his embrace for peace of mind — _will you be as hardworking as now, will you be drowning yourself in your work when you're alone?)_

(He is, and Yuta wonders — if there is someone, _anyone_ caring for him, attempting to stop him — if, on the chance that there isn't -

he's happy, and doesn't hurt at all.)

'It's rather heavy, actually. But I have a meeting tomorrow, so I'll be hopping on the plane around 5am.'

'I see.'

Five o'clock is two hours before his own plane — ahead of him, like Dongyoung has always been. Perhaps, Yuta realises bitterly, as Dongyoung lays his empty glass on the table and uncrosses his legs — he will never stop being like this, and he will perpetually leave him behind. Perhaps Yuta is bound to run after him forever, and never once reach him — perhaps they were made to be apart, and this sudden partnership is the fates telling him to quit it.

(Perhaps this is the reply to Dongyoung's gaze, the one Yuta wishes he'd ignored.)

'I'll get going, alright? I have to catch some sleep before I board.'

Dongyoung stands up, and puts his jacket back on — smiles at him like any businessman would, and shakes his hand like no ex-lover would. 

(And Yuta hopes he's happy, hopes he doesn't hurt — because in his own chest lies a broken heart, and each piece has been grazing his soul deeply since the start of this partnership. His mind is haunted by the happiness he thought he would have forever, and the present cackles at his misery, presents him with nothing more than formal thanks and hopes to collaborate again — along with a retreating back, one he never intended to ever face, one he only ever intended to hold — along with the end of who they were, something that was never meant to die.)

Dongyoung leaves, and the faint scent of his perfume remains — Yuta closes his eyes, and imagines a chest against his back, imagines slender hands holding his own, and never once letting go. He imagines — remembers, and in the horizon, the sun sets, and night falls.

(Perhaps this was never worth it.)

**Author's Note:**

> derelict as in maritime law
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/millesoirees)


End file.
